AN: Oh look, another bonus chapter!
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Chapter 34: Light
Year 543 of the Sun, Western coast of Beleriand
Galadriel was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, her eyes never leaving Elros.
They twins were sparring with the sons of Fëanáro, and while she trusted Macalaurë enough to mostly leave him alone with Elrond, Nelyafinwë was a different matter entirely.
Today was one of his good days, otherwise she would never have let him as much as approach the boys, but still, that could change at any moment. She had asked Elros, quietly and carefully, if he truly wished to spar with the red-headed son of Fëanáro, and Elros had proudly raised his chin and said that he was not afraid.
His mind bore witness to his lie, but Galadriel felt no need to say so, and instead had just nodded curtly.
And now Elros was slowly circling the older elf, trying to get through his defence.
"It is so strange, fighting against someone who uses their left hand," he muttered. "Is it even useful? I mean, how often will I encounter it in a real fight?"
"Everything may come in useful," Nelyafinwë replied, and made a quick lunge, hitting Elros with the flat side of his sword.
Elros grimaced. "I do not know how to do it," he said. "I do not know how you do it! How did you learn?"
"I had no choice," Nelyafinwë replied curtly.
"Why? I mean, why did the wound not heal?"
Nelyafinwë laughed bitterly. "Perhaps in Aman, my hand would have grown back, though I do not know if that is true. But here in Middle-Earth..." He shook his head. "Pay attention in your sparring lessons. If someone cuts off your hand, you have lost it."
Galadriel gave Nelyafinwë a look. It was a little more complicated than that, but she understood why he did not wish to talk about that part. Nelyafinwë's wrist, as well as many of his scars, also did not heal because his soul never fully healed from his suffering. Suddenly, she thought of Midhel. It was strange that of all of Nelyafinwë's family, it was his brother's captive wife that might have understood him best when it came to this part of his life. Not that Midhel would have ever felt safe enough with him to talk about this experience.
"I need to watch someone else fight you first," Elros was saying. "Can Macalaurë fight with you for a while, so that I can learn?"
"Macalaurë is teaching Elrond at the moment," Galadriel replied. "Let them have their time."
"But I need to see!" Elrond insisted.
Galadriel considered this, then smiled. "Very well, then," she said, and rose.
"You?" Elros was clearly surprised. "You will fight Nelyafinwë?"
"You have seen me fight orcs often enough," she replied.
"Yes, but I have never seen you spar."
And for a good reason. Galadriel did not train often, and did not trust herself with the sons of Fëanáro. But just for a short while, only to illustrate the point for Elros – surely there would be no harm in that? She took the sword from Elros and faced her cousin.
Nelyafinwë was better with weapons than she was, she knew that perfectly well. He started out mildly enough, letting her find her pace, but then his speed increased, and as Galadriel parried every one of his passes, all the reasons she had avoided this until now came to the foreground of her mind. "Careful," she said, but Nelyafinwë continued pressing her, and under the stress of that, she reached for the force that drove her when she was fighting, for that fire, and found the anger she felt towards Nelyafinwë, for all the deaths he had caused. It flared brightly as that flame filled her, and he was forced to take a step back, then another.
Galadriel put down her sword, breathing heavily.
"We have to stop now," she said.
Nelyafinwë only nodded jerkily. Macalaurë and Elrond took a break in their sparring, and Macalaurë was now watching them with serious, worried eyes.
"What was that?" Elrond asked curiously.
"And how can I learn to do it?" Elros continued.
Galadriel took a deep breath to calm herself, still a little winded. "That," she replied, "was the light of the West. It is easy for me to reach it and call it forward, for I have been there, but you should be able to do it as well. Lady Melian is your foremother, and you have seen the Silmaril around your mother's throat. Think of it and close your eyes, and try to bring the light forth."
Elrond got the hang of it first. It was not as strong as with those who have truly been to the West, but it was there, a faint glow, and it would be enough to drive the lowlier servants of the Enemy away from him. Elros, unwilling to be behind in anything, managed to do it soon after with his brother's help.
"Why did you not use it as well, to fight back against Aunt?" He asked Nelyafinwë then.
Nelyafinwë's face seemed to turn into stone at those words.
"We no longer can," Macalaurë answered for him. "We have killed too many innocents. We cannot reach the light."
The boys exchanged a look. They knew about all the crimes of the sons of Fëanáro now, and knew, also, that any mention of them could provoke Nelyafinwë into one of his unpredictable moods.
And, indeed, after only a short silence Nelyafinwë burst out: "I know I have been judged, I know it well enough, I do not need to see it in your eyes looking at me!"
"Go," Galadriel said softly, and Elros immediately rose and pulled at Elrond's reluctant arm. Macalaurë went with them, for Galadriel was now fixed by Nelyafinwë's gaze as he raged on. "Did you long to kill me, when we fought?" He asked. "Perhaps you should have. At least then you, too, would know what it is like to have your hands stained by the blood of your kin...even you, my perfect little cousin...do you know how that feels? And my brothers, too, almost all dead because of me, lying on the floor of that throne room in Thousand Caves...Atarinkë had been so worried, you know, so afraid his son would be there and fight him...that would have been the worst kind of kinslaying...but he was not, he is probably long dead, and so is everyone else, dead because of me, and you sit there and look at me and feel all superior!"
"I know well what it is to feel guilt," she replied, with spirit of her own. "Doriath fell, and Narogrotto, and Hithlum, all through some fault of mine."
"Fault of yours! Ha! Was it not me who signed the deaths sentence of all those who perished there, of those thousands, tens of thousands, and Findekáno...oh heavens, Findekáno, whom I had loved more than anyone, Findekáno who saved me from the suffering and torture of the Enemy, and I led him to his death! Findekáno!"
Nelyafinwë's shouts changed into wordless howling, and in spite of herself, Galadriel rose from her trunk and went to embrace him carefully. He shook her of, however, and ran away into the gathering darkness.
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They were in the ruins of Eglarest when they saw the bright new star rising from the West, and three of those present knew the Silmaril intimately enough that they could not mistake it for anything else. It was Nelyafinwë who expressed their thoughts, when he turned to Macalaurë and said: "Surely that is a Silmaril that shines now in the sky?"
"If it truly is the Silmaril that we saw cast into the sea, rising again by the power of the Valar, then let us be glad," Macalaurë replied carefully, soothingly. "For its glory is seen now by many, and yet it is secure from all evil."
Nelyafinwë was clearly less content with this knowledge than his brother, but he assented nevertheless.
What they did not speak about, however, was the hope such a light brought, because for them, it was mixed with fear.
But Galadriel thought about it without a pause, thought about what it could mean, what she hoped it would mean, and about all those others who would see it as well, The Enemy in his fortress and Sauron by his side – were they shaking in fear? - and all those who lived at Balar now. Did they recognise the jewel they saw so many times on Elwing's neck? What was Lady Ernil thinking? She never knew the West, so how strange must it be, to know the West might come to Middle-Earth now? And Midhel, did she see hope for herself in it?
But most of all, of course, she thought of Artanáro and Celeborn. She missed them bitterly every day, and now she reached for them with her mind, the image of the new star bright before her eyes, and they responded, responded with hope and joy and faith, and wished so much that she could be with them now and celebrate.
She took the twins aside and spoke with them alone, her voice breaking with the tears she was attempting not to shed. "Your mother," she said, "is safe in the West."
"Safe from all pain, just like you wanted," Elrond remarked.
"Aman cannot undo the pain she has suffered already, but it is true that it can help to heal it. In any case she is happier than we who remain here are now, but the light gives me hope that your father has done as he intended and sought help for us, and that the Lords of the West heard him."
"What do you mean?"
"I hesitated to speak to you of such hope, because while I always knew it was the only thing that could save us, I had no certainty it would come...but what I mean is that the Valar will come themselves, to free us from darkness."
"The Valar?" Elros asked, incredulous. "Come here?"
Galadriel smiled sadly, realizing that in spite of all she had told them, the Valar were much like creatures from legend for the boys. "I hope and believe so, beloved," she said, "but there is no telling when."
It took two years, and she knew the boys stopped believing in her hope when time passed and they had to continue hiding from the Enemy along the coast while the Silmaril shone above their heads. But then, one day, an even greater light appeared in the West, and it grew brighter every day, until finally Galadriel could see through it and she sank to the sands of Falas, weeping.
"Aunt?" Elrond asked, alarmed. "What is it?"
"My father," she said, tears streaming down her face. "My father is coming as the head of a host of Noldor..."
She turned her entire mind towards the approaching ships and called with all its strength: Father!
And the answer came: My beloved child…
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The happiness Galadriel felt in this meeting outshone even that she had felt when Itarillë arrived in New Havens, for this was after a longer separation, and a fulfilment of an even slimmer hope. She boarded the ship with Elros and Elrond and for a long time, she just stood in quiet embrace with her father, too joyful for words or tears, their minds touching and filled with love for each other, and the boundless happiness of this reunion.
Afterwards, she introduced the boys and went to greet Uncle Arolwe, her mother's brother who served as the mariner on the ship. "Is Itarillë all right?" She asked then.
"Yes," her father replied. "In a great mercy of the Valar, she and Tuor both live in the blessed lands. His fate was changed, just as Lúthien's had been."
Here, Galadriel sank to her knees and sang a prayer of thanks to the Valar. "You will be able to thank their envoys, at least, in person soon," her father said, smiling. "They are coming behind us."
Galadriel rose, a little bewildered. "It has been so long," she said, "I have...I have missed it so much, seeing them, speaking to them. And the boys see them as completely unreal."
"Not unreal," Elrond protested. "Just very distant, like The One."
"But The One is not distant, my child," Arafinwë replied. "He is with you every minute of every day..."
"He is at the same time more distant and closer than the Valar are," Galadriel added, smiling. The boys did not look like this explanation was helpful in the slightest. "What about Elwing and Ardamírë?" She changed the topic.
"They arrived, and Eärendil gave his message to the Valar, and was heard. They were also given a choice between the human and elven fate. From what we know, Eärendil let Elwing choose, and she chose us. Their children, we were told," he added, looking down at the boys, "would be given the same choice." That thought scared Galadriel, that one of the little boys who now stood before her with their eyes very wide would one day choose to die, but she pushed it away. They were both raised by elves, she thought. Surely, they would not. Not even Elros, who sometimes reminded her of Beren...no.
"It is Eärendil you see crossing the sky now, every night," her father added.
"Him? But we thought...the Silmaril..."
"The Silmaril shines on his forehead, but it is him in his ship."
"And Elwing?" Galadriel asked, suddenly worried, for if Ardamírë sailed the skies now, what became of his wife?
"She lives in a white tower by the sea where she welcomes him every morning as he returns," Arafinwë replied in a mild, calming voice.
Galadriel, however, was not entirely comforted. "She lives there alone?"
"Mostly, yes. Itarillë and Tuor visit there from time to time, I believe."
The Nolde frowned. "You and mother should go to see her," she said. "She was like my daughter, and so she is in some ways your granddaughter."
Her father tilted his head to the side. "She was like your daughter? How come? We understood, from the little that was told us about this, that she was of Elwë's line..."
"Yes, she is the daughter of Dior and Nimloth, and Dior was the son of Lúthien and Beren and Singollo's heir, while Nimloth was Singollo's - Elwë's - great-great-niece. But Nimloth and Dior were slain," she shot a quick look to the shore, where Nelyafinwë and Macalaurë were still waiting, "when Elwing was only three years old, along with their sons. I escaped with her and I have raised her."
"I did not know that, and I am sorry. As soon as I am returned to Aman, we will go and see her, I promise you."
Galadriel nodded. "Thank you." She paused, and asked hesitatingly. "I am glad to hear that all of those who passed West while living are well...have any of the others been allowed to roam free in the lands of Aman?"
"Yes. Of those I am aware you know, four. Your eldest brother..."
"Ingoldo?" She interrupted him, and the day seemed impossibly brightened. "Oh, praise the Valar! Oh, brother! Is he happy?"
"Yes, and he is with Amarië."
Tears began to stream again out of Galadriel's eyes. "I am simply so...so glad and relieved, Father, I cannot even express it in words. It always seemed especially painful someone as noble and honourable as he, for all he has his faults, was forced to face evil and darkness...I am so very happy that the Valar rewarded him for all the good thing he has done, and for all the faith he always had." She paused. "You said there were four? Who were the others?"
"Lords Edrahil, Ehtelion and Laurefindil. Ingoldo and Edrahil both chose to stay with their loves in Aman, declining to leave them ever again – very wisely so, I believe – but Turukáno's lords..." Arafinwë looked to the side, and following his gaze Galadriel could see Lord Laurefindil at the bow of the next ship. He bowed to her. "My lady," he said, and she smiled at him brilliantly.
"Lord Laurefindil," she replied. "Would you consider crossing here? I would like to introduce to you the sons of Eärendil and grandchildren of Itarillë."
"I will be honoured to meet them, my lady," he replied. Once he reached their ship, he first gave Galadriel warm regards from Itarillë and Elwing and Ardamírë, along with thanks for caring for the boys, and then he bowed in front of the twins. "My lords," he said, "I bring greetings from your parents, and your grandparents that you never met. They cannot wait to see you in Aman one day. I was a lord in your great-grandfather's house when it still stood, and I promised your grandmother to offer you any assistance I can while here."
The boys exchanged a glance. "It is strange," Elrond mused, "to have greetings from a grandmother we do not know. Aunt told us much about her, of course, but still."
"Then perhaps I can tell you even more? Newer stories, ones that your Aunt does not know? Stories about your grandfather as well?"
The boys nodded eagerly, and he took them aside, giving Galadriel the space she wanted to talk to her father.
"Are you and mother well?" She asked.
"Yes, though we miss you. We are glad, at least, that Ingoldo has returned to us, though only recently. It is but few Valian years and he spent most of them with Amarië, so we do not know much from him about your years here. Are we to expect your brothers soon?"
Galadriel thought about it. "I believe Angaráto should come as soon as he heals from the wounds the suffering he saw left on his soul," she said. "With Aikanáro I am less certain. But of course the judgement is the purview of the Valar."
"This judgement," her father corrected her.
"Yes, naturally." She hesitated. "How are the others? How is...Alqualondë?"
"Well again," he replied with a soft smile. "All of those who died by our people's hand came back long ago, healed from the suffering. They are ready to grant forgiveness, I believe, when some of those who are guilty begin to come back and if they are contrite."
Findekáno, Galadriel thought immediately, and was glad to hear it. "And Aunt Anairë? How did she bear the separation?"
"It was difficult," her father admitted. "She moved back with her parents, and spent much time with us as well, though at the beginning your mother was grieving for Alqualondë and for your departure too much to be able to help her with her pain. But now it is better, and especially since Itarillë came back. They live together in Ñolofinwë's old house in Tirion now. Tuor is the wonder of the city."
Galadriel laughed. "And what of our relations in Valimar?" She asked.
"Oh, Valimar continues mostly untouched by our woes. Your grandmother lives back there now, so I visit even more often than before."
"And how is she?"
"Sometimes I think better than when Father was still among us, but I know that is unkind, and that she misses him. But...well, she is at home there. She never entirely was in Tirion."
"And the rest of the house?" Galadriel continued her enquiry. "How fare my great-aunt and Lady Elemmírë? And great-grandmother?"
"You know they are always well. I do not believe Lady Elemmírë, in particular, had one day of woe in her life, and she can always make great-aunt Laureheri equally cheerful. My grandmother was upset greatly by Mother's fate, but she came to terms with it, I believe."
"Is any of them here?"
He frowned. "No," he said. "Lady Elemmírë wished to come, insisting that her songs could uplift the warriors' spirits, but great-aunt begged her not to, and you know that Lady Elemmírë never refuses her anything."
Galadriel nodded. She knew that perfectly well. That was the only reason why she had been sometimes sung to sleep by the famous bard, after all. Remembering it in this way, she missed that house in Valimar so much it hurt, that place of comfort and wisdom and joy. Tirion always seemed full of strife in comparison. Her memories of Valimar were full of golden light – she knew she had seen it many times under the light of Telperion, but somehow she never remembered that – and of the melodious voice of Lady Elemmírë and the laughter of other ladies of the house and it was all so bright and she wished, wished desperately she could have it back.
"And what about you?" Her father asked, oblivious to the tears that threatened to fall out of her eyes. "We know you have married, Ingoldo told us that much. I hope your husband is as devoted to you as Lady Elemmírë to her wife. Is he here now?"
"No," she replied. "He is elsewhere, in safety."
Her father frowned at this, and she forestalled him with a raised hand. "There were good reasons for this," she said. "And I did not need his protection." His company, yes – oh, how bitterly she missed it – but not protection. "But you will meet him," she added. "I promise."
In fact, as soon as the greetings were over, Galadriel cast her mind to Celeborn and Artanáro, the picture of the ships from the West burning in her mind, and felt their joyous response.
Then, turning to Arolwe, she said: "Do I understand it correctly that you will not be fighting in this war?"
"Yes. Our people only agreed to sail with the ships, for Elwing, whom you named as your daughter, has begged it of us, and she is our kin."
"Then I am certain it will be no great burden to you if I ask you to guard her sons for me for a time, while I arrange some matters concerning this fight, and decide where my help would do the most good."
Arolwe assented, but her father heard her and said: "You want to fight, Artanis? Are you sure that is wise?"
Galadriel laughed. "Meaning no offence, Father, but I believe I have fought in more battles in my life than you have, and I have held back a lot. I have fought in many more just in the last five years that we have lived in the wilderness." She smiled at him. "But do not worry, I will not be risking my life in the front lines. I have made a promise to Findekáno, an age ago, not to do that. Who is in charge of the overall strategy?"
"Lord Eönwë."
"Then let me speak to him when he comes, and I will find out what would be the best use of my powers."
Arafinwë laughed. "I see you do not change, child."
Galadriel turned her eyes to him, and revealed fully the depth of grief that was behind them. The smile disappeared from her father's face. "I am sorry, Father," she said immediately. "I should not have shown it to you."
"No, I am sorry. It was thoughtless of me to speak so. We who stayed in the West and were born there cannot even imagine the suffering you went through, I know, not even after you tell us of it."
"Do not think about it, please. It will all be better now."
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When Galadriel disembarked the ship, she went in search of the sons of Fëanáro, who have disappeared from the beach. They were not far, though, just on the edges of a nearby forest.
"We will be leaving now," Nelyafinwë said once she reached them.
There was an uncertain silence. What do you say in farewell to one who has done so much harm to those that you love, and yet you are bound to him by love in turn, if only for the sake of ages past? Galadriel did not say anything, and at length, Nelyafinwë spoke again: "Give our greetings to Elros and Elrond. I know you will not allow them to leave the safety of those ships again, as long as the war lasts, and you know we cannot board them."
Galadriel gave him a long look. "Why did you want to kill them, Nelyafinwë?" She asked then.
"Why did my father burn the ships?" He returned bitterly. "Madness is claiming me bit by bit, cousin, the accursed oath driving me to it. The twins and you...you kept it at bay. Now I fear..."
"There is still some love for you left in my heart, Nelyafinwë, even though I do not understand this madness you speak about. But you cannot believe I would put them just to the slightest risk to help you."
"No. That is why I do not ask."
"Stay with your brother, and listen to his voice of reason, and your path will stay clear."
"Or I will drag him with me into the madness."
"Not if you listen to him." Galadriel hesitated, then stepped closer to Nelyafinwë and embraced him briefly. "May The One be merciful to you," she said, for she did not believe there would be any mercy for the sons of Fëanáro from the Valar.
She gave Macalaurë a longer embrace, for for this cousin she felt more sorry. "If you ever need help with your brother," she said, "do not hesitate to turn to me, and I will do what I can."
"Do you truly believe that I am strong enough to keep his madness at bay?"
That was the question, was it not? Galadriel had strong doubts, but her mind was shielded and she said: "Do what you can and pray. You have stayed his hand once, so the One willing, you will stay it again."
Macalaurë nodded. "Tell the boys," he said then, "tell them I truly loved them."
"They know, beloved."
And Galadriel turned and walked to the bright ship of Lord Eönwë, to get ready for war.